


Head Case

by bete_noir



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creepy, Depression, Existential Crisis, I'm Sorry, Medication, One Shot, Other, Unhappy Ending, Weirdness, Why Did I Write This?, psychiatry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bete_noir/pseuds/bete_noir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>how Cecil won the battle and lost the war. </p><p>What is the end result of losing the things that are most important to you over and over again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head Case

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

You don't have a past. 

You don’t remember your past. 

You had a mother but she’s gone. You don’t really remember when or how she left, but she is gone. 

You used to ask after her. There were never any answers. You tell yourself that she loved you. Friends are sympathetic and even cook for you occasionally. 

After a few weeks you realize this is just the way things are and you no longer really hope to remember. Everything is gone and this is the new reality. People are depending on you.

You become used to being alone. 

You get up and work and go through the motions with a smile on your face. No use doing anything else. It won’t change things. 

Your friends grow up and move on. They make connections and families. 

You do not make personal connections. People come and go far too frequently in your experience. You isolate yourself in your work. You do as you are told. You are working without a net. You have no support system. Without the job, what is there? 

This is just the way things are. This is reality. People are depending on you.

You meet someone that makes you hope again. 

You make a mess of it. 

He redeems the broken parts of you and accepts the empty parts as well. 

He seems too good to be true at times. 

This is just the way things are. This is reality. 

You fall in love. 

You make a home. 

You go to work. Your boyfriend goes to work. He is swallowed up by some house that isn’t there and lost in an some strange place that doesn’t exist either. 

After a few weeks you realize this is just the way things are and you no longer hope. Everything is gone and this is the new reality. Other people are depending on you.

You go to sleep alone. 

You wake up alone. 

You eat alone. 

You wake up at 3am to stare at the ceiling. 

You lay awake and picture the place that doesn’t exist. 

You fantasize about your beloved there. 

You remember your double is there too. 

You imagine committing violent acts against your double. 

You tell no one. 

Your appetite wanes. 

Your sex drive disappears. You don’t care. 

Your friends are sympathetic and even cook for you occasionally. 

This is just the way things are. This is reality. 

You become irritable when friends advise you to keep moving on, this will pass. 

You recede into yourself a little more everyday. 

You find it hard to get out of bed in the morning. 

You find it more difficult to leave the house. 

You see an advertisement on television, a medicine that promises you can feel happy again. 

You see a doctor. You ask for the medication by name. He prescribes it. Coincidentally the same medication is used for eating disorders, panic attacks, premature ejaculation and alcoholism. Maybe you have these co-morbidities, maybe you don’t. You just want to stop aching. 

You don't wonder if you’re actually depressed or if the way you feel is a sane response to the insanity of the situation you’re in. 

You tell yourself it’s not a capitalist conspiracy to put a big yellow smiling face on situations we should be able to work our way through and grow emotionally from. 

You’re not a mental health professional you tell yourself.

You pay a lot of money for psychiatric visits and medications.

This is just the way things are. This is reality. 

They tell you it is a disease; it is pathology rather than sadness or grieving. There is a way to treat a disease. 

You take pills to make your feelings go away because the professionals tell you it’s all in your head. Your brain, scientifically speaking. 

You talk to someone once a week, someone who is paid to listen to you. Someone who will teach you “coping strategies.” You wonder if this is some kind of indoctrination into the pieties of American optimism. They preach "acceptance" like it’s Religion.

You become numb. 

You tell yourself this is the way it must be. This is reality. People are depending on you. 

You are no longer happy, but you are no longer sad either. 

This is just the way things are. This is reality. 

You take the meds and see the therapist to protect the status quo. 

You wish your sadness was a disease they could sell a cure for. 

You have been medicated into conforming. 

You see the people around you on the same medications. You notice that they never seem to recover. There must be an inverse correlation between recovery and psychotherapy.

This is just the way things are. This is reality. 

You take another pill and schedule another session with your therapist. 

You are losing your ability to feel. 

You are losing your ability to care. 

You have become one of Nietzsche’s “last men”. 

This is just the way things are. This is reality.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I was reading an article on mental health diagnoses and psychopharmacology being over used and the profitability of such abusive business models. (see the US Healthcare system). 
> 
> This fic felt accurate after Strex Corp and The September Monologues with Steve Carlsberg mentioning Cecil hiding in the radio station at times. I have some strange thoughts... 
> 
> The reference to Nietzsche's last man ( if you haven't read " Thus Spoke Zarathustra") refers to the type of man that's given up on life and only looks for the comfort and security of routine. 
> 
>  
> 
> This is the only one of several stories in progress that has wanted to be completed. (that sounds like a threat! ) I have a serious case of chemo brain... so apologies to anyone that this offends. Mental health is a delicate issue and I've been both on the patient and practitioner side of it ..... and well..... there are always positive experiences and negative ones. 
> 
> comments, corrections and pleas to stop writing are always welcome and if you'd like alleviate my ennui, I'm xanax-annex on tumblr.
> 
> b_n


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